


but inwardly they are ravening wolves

by revradios



Category: Foxboro Hot Tubs (Band), Green Day
Genre: Alcohol, Implied Relationships, Other, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, theres tension but its not like a blatant relationship or anything, this is my interpretation of the character of twitch because old gd fans dont know how to act
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28303839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revradios/pseuds/revradios
Summary: a conversation between the false prophet and his follower
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	but inwardly they are ravening wolves

Lazy green hues watch amber liquid swirl round and round in the bottle, fixed gaze following it as if hypnotized. Lips are parted just slightly as their owner is seemingly transfixed by the rhythmic fashion the alcohol moves in, eyes darkened and expression slack. A movement from off to the side breaks him from his spell though and his gaze flicks up, now settling on the door that just opened, a figure stepping into the room and shutting the door quietly behind them - blocking out the murmurs and shiftings of the outside world for a little while longer.

The figure walks into the dim light of the little office room the Reverend had taken up as his own for the time being and reveals themself to be Michelangelo, who peers down at the walking blasphemy with a glint in his eye.

“They seem t’have gotten the message loud n’ clear, Rev,” he says smoothly, the soft lilt in his tone making the false prophet’s lip curl into an amused smirk as he sets his bottle of liquor down and adjusts himself in the chair he had haphazardly thrown himself into a few hours earlier. He glances at the clock on the wall, watches the second hand tick for a moment, before he responds.

“Hung on ev’ry word, didn’t they?” he croons without looking at the other, and Michelangelo visibly preens at this - knowing very well his part in bringing their congregation here today. There’s a pause before the Reverend turns his head and eyes Michelangelo for a second before he motions with his head for the follower to come forward. Michelangelo does gladly, perching on the edge of the desk next to the Reverend and tilting his head as he watches him lean and start to rummage around the desk for a moment before muttering a soft _ah ha!_ as he finds what he’s looking for. He sits back up with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, two glasses in the other, Michelangelo’s expression turning from curiosity to glee when he realizes what the Reverend was suggesting. He waits though, allowing the demon to pour their drinks and hand him the glass, green eyes meeting blue as they watch each other, anticipating.

Then, as the snake oil preacher rests the rim of his glass against his lower lip, he says, “I’s thinkin’ a lil celebratin’ is in order, don’t’cha agree?” Accent grows heavier on his tongue and flavors his tone with a thicker southern drawl, making Michelangelo practically shiver with excitement for what was to come. “After all, it ain’t ev’ry day that we’s gettin’ a turnout like this one.” And without any more time wasted, the two of them knock back their glasses in one go - practiced now at the art - and the Reverend gives a full body shudder as the alcohol reaches his system. Michelangelo, in his own rapture, watches his dear mentor with a grin, his eyes bright and full of mischief as he observes the practice of their faith.

“Th’ gods’re lookin’ favorably upon us t’night,” says the eighth cardinal sin, opening his eyes and gazing at Michelangelo with a lazy smirk. Michelangelo nods his head in response, watching as the Reverend pours more nectar into their glasses.

“Like lambs to slaughter,” he mumbles, and the Reverend beams in pride.

“They’s don’t even know what they’s gettin’ themselves into,” is his response, taking a drink from his refilled glass and watching Michelangelo, carefully eyeing the favorite son as he now mimics earlier motions - blue eyes fixed on the liquid in his own glass. “Yous not feelin’ _guilt_ , now are ya?” he asks, brow furrowing slightly as Michelangelo startles and glances up. “I’s don’t gotta remind ya’s what our motto is-” but Michelangelo shakes his head quick and the Reverend relaxes slightly.

“Nah- no, no, not even a smidgen,” Michelangelo reassures. “I’m just...thinkin’ s’all.” The Reverend quirks an eyebrow at this, waiting for elaboration, and it takes a few seconds for Michelangelo to be able to get his thoughts in order. “...What’s next for us?” he asks, sounding slightly unsure of himself. When there’s no response, he continues. “I mean… We’ve been travelin’ for so long, an’ that’s all great and swell, but-..” he trails off, frowning into his glass as the Reverend watches in silence.

With the lack of his coat and glasses, the Reverend Strychnine Twitch resembled any young southern man - slouched in the chair with a leg now kicked over the arm of it, holding his half empty glass between his thumb and forefinger as he observes his oldest friend and follower. But underneath it all was a sharp tongued con artist who revelled in the deception of the common man. Michelangelo didn’t seem nervous though, nor did he seem scared - but the tension was palpable as the Reverend turned his words over in his head for a long time before he responded, making Michelangelo look up.

“How long we been doin’ this gig now for, hm?” the mortal deity asks, and Michelangelo stops to ponder this for a moment.

“...Few years now, I think,” he replies slowly, frowning as he tries to remember. Twitch nods his head once, taking another drink from his glass.

“Remember what I told ya’s back when I’s first pitched this thing to ya?”

Michelangelo pauses, wracking his brain for the memory as Twitch gives him time to think, observing him from over the rim of his glass as he does. It’s a few moments before he remembers and speaks.

“‘ _There’s always bigger fish that come along to fry_ ’?” Michelangelo repeats, seeming confused before it finally dawns on him. “You…” A grin slowly spreads across Twitch's face as Michelangelo’s eyes widen behind his glasses. “You always had more than this planned, didn’t’cha?” he says, voice soft with slight awe. The Reverend only shrugs his shoulders innocently and takes another drink as Michelangelo’s lips curl into a grin of his own. “You damn _dog_ , you - you had this entire thing planned out the whole damn time!”

“Don’t know why yous ever doubted me, Mich,” Twitch says as if this revelation had always been obvious. “I’s never lead ya’s wrong before, have I?” and Michelangelo looks a little guilty as he shakes his head. “I ain’t mad at’cha,” the mockery soothes, Michelangelo looking a little relieved at that. “Yous just gotta trust me more, huh?” There’s a pause, before Michelangelo nods his head and finally takes a drink from his glass, making Twitch hum - pleased. He downs the rest of his own glass in one go before setting it down, glancing towards the door as he hears voices getting louder as people begin to approach their little hideaway. “Lookin' like we’s been found,” he says in amusement, Michelangelo turning his head to follow Twitch’s gaze.

“Sounds like Frosco and the Professor,” he says, giving an amused huff when he hears laughter and slight stumbling as the footsteps and voices draw nearer. The Reverend doesn’t respond, standing up and grabbing his furred coat from where it had been tossed without care onto a couch next to the desk and slipping into it, Michelangelo watching from where he still sat on the edge of the desk. When the man at the crossroads starts looking around for his signature sunglasses, Michelangelo gives a cursory glance of the room before spotting the white object sitting on the heater behind where Twitch had been sitting.

Michelangelo gets up and walks over, making Twitch look up from his increasingly more frantic search and watch him go by as he plucks the sunglasses from where they were sat and goes to stand in front of the shorter man, smirking before carefully putting them onto Twitch’s face, pushing them up on the bridge of his nose and raising an eyebrow as the Reverend huffs, looking slightly flustered.

“Ain’t no reason showin’ off like that,” he mutters, glaring up at Michelangelo - face tinged red - but there’s no real heat behind it. Michelangelo only chuckles and steps back so Twitch can slip past him and make his way to the door, his steps confident and sure. Michelangelo watches this for a moment before following, only pausing when Twitch does and grinning when the Reverend snatches One Eyed Jack from where he was propped up against the wall. Twitch throws Michelangelo an amused look over his shoulder before he opens the door.

“After yous,” is what he says, and Michelangelo gives an exaggerated bow that makes Twitch burst into laughter, Michelangelo joining in as he straightens back up and walks past. Twitch follows close behind as they both make their way over to Frosco and the Professor, who were waiting near the entrance to the main church chatting. They both look up when they hear Michelangelo and Twitch approach and the Professor immediately grins and opens the door, slipping through it to the sounds of loud cheering and hoots. The door closes and Frosco looks at Twitch, amused.

"All set to roll?" he asks, making Michelangelo grin and Twitch chuckle, nodding his head.

"Jus' give us a moment, will ya's?" he asks, and Frosco laughs and nods before turning and following the Professor out the door. It closes, leaving the Reverend and the disciple alone, looking at the door before turning their heads to look at each other.

Michelangelo was quiet for a moment before he asks, "Ready?" which makes the fallen idol beam and nod his head enthusiastically. They both look at the door again when the sounds of clapping and chanting start to raise in volume. It was almost time. Michelangelo steps back and motions towards the door, signaling for Twitch to begin his grand entrance, and the Reverend straightens up, adopts a lopsided grin and opens the door. Before he steps out though, he takes one last look at Michelangelo and winks.

"Church is now in session."

The Devil steps out and faces his congregation, who greet him with uproarious applause.

**Author's Note:**

> first time writing something for fbht or any of the green day sideprojects for that matter - comments are much appreciated!!


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